


last ones out

by sunflowersky



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Let Them Be Soft 2020, Mutual Pining, POV Sylvain Jose Gautier, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23031841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowersky/pseuds/sunflowersky
Summary: for #SylvainWeek2020:Day 5 - DanceSylvain encounters Marianne in the last place he'd expect to find her. He realizes this is exactly where he needs to be._Set during pre-time skip; post-Sylvain and Marianne's B support.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30
Collections: Sylvain Week 2020!





	last ones out

**Author's Note:**

> alternate title: fuck it, let Sylvain be soft.
> 
> very excited to be posting this, I haven't properly written fic (even short ones) in a while; I'm working on getting back into it!
> 
> Some of Marianne's inner POV is included because I could not help myself, but this is in fact Sylvain-centric in honor of the disaster boy's week. 
> 
> you can find me at: @goldendeerest on Twitter - and to whoever may be seeing this, thank you for reading!

_He swore he heard bells ring_. 

Sylvain’s life may not have been dedicated to formalities such as galas amongst the likes of his classmates, and other novels across the span of Faerghus (and Fodlan), but damn if he didn’t take advantage of the opportunity every now and again . 

Granted, there were some catches. His mouth grew dry at the frivolous talk; his blood ran cold at the false airs people put on whenever crests were mentioned, or when marriages were arranged. Not to mention that girls he had loved and left would waltz past his line of sight, and he would weave between royalties to avoid either their wrath or lingering admiration. He was not fond of either.

But even with all of that, he enjoyed the company of the few he held close, and even those at arm’s length. Dressing up nicely and sneaking extra glasses of champagne made him feel a little less stuffy. 

Felix, with death in his eyes, had been briefly escorted off to speak with one of his father’s compatriots; Sylvain threw him a wink as he stayed right in place. 

And if he heard it right, he could hear his friend curse his name. 

“You’ll do great, kid,” he offered before Felix walked out of earshot. 

Above the crowd, he noticed a head of blue hair, braided in a beautiful crown, and as he glanced further down, the dress this woman wore further caught his eye. It was a soft rose color, and his cheeks began to match its hue. 

(He shook it off, though.)

Something about her seemed familiar. The hair, the way her shoulders hunched - and as he began to make his way through the crowd, he could see her nails digging into the back of her arm. 

But before he could reach her, or call the name that he swore it belonged to, she escaped the conversation in a rush, as polite as a rush could be. 

Under his breath, he whispered, “I knew it.”

He scanned the room for any familiar faces that might stop him before he followed her out into that hall. 

He stopped himself from announcing his presence when he heard nervous breaths, and a faint cry from a distance. 

He didn’t know her all that well since they were separated by house and origin - but he found the members of the Golden Deer compelling. He often liked to linger. It created some interesting dynamics, not excluding Hilda using him for manual labor and playing chess with Claude. But -- 

“Hey - are you okay?”

Marianne was still further out of reach. 

She turned around and her whole body shook a bit in surprise, finding herself face-to-face with Sylvain. His voice was softer than usual, and his stance emitted no provocation. But still, she never knew what to do about him.

“I-I’m--” she began, collecting her thoughts as her lungs still threatened her voice, “-- I’m fine. I promise.”

He took another step back, and wore a solemn smile. “It’s okay if you’re not. I know these things are pretty overwhelming.

She nodded - she didn’t respond, but she also did not attempt to leave. His eyes might have brightened a bit, or maybe it was just a trick of the light. “You-- look really nice tonight… beautiful. You look beautiful.”

And then she took a step away. He mentally smacked himself in the back of the head.

She hesitated, but then briefly looked him in the eye. “... Thank you.”

“Of course.” _Don’t say anything stupid, don’t say anything stupid._ “So, what’s a dazzling lady like yourself doing in a bleak room like this?” _That was a little stupid._

“I’m--- um-- I’m-- here with my--” 

He recanted, “It’s okay. I understand if you don’t want to talk about it. I saw you run out of the room though, and I got worried.” 

“I really don’t need you to worry,” she said under her breath, trying to get it all out in one go. Sylvain looked back towards the door, hoping for once that no one would notice his absence. He put his hands in his pockets and leaned in ever so slightly, hunching his shoulders.

“I want to.” His smile grew. He wanted to see her smile grow like she promised. “If you want me to leave you alone, I can do that. Pretend I was never here. But so you know, it’s okay to want people to care.”

Spoken like a true hypocrite. (A hypocrite who genuinely cared.)

Marianne’s eyes darted around the room, again trying to collect her thoughts. Sylvain nodded his head, and bowed slightly. “I understand. I hope I’ll see you again soon--”

“Don’t go.”

Mid-bow, his head shot up to see her -- _really_ see her -- and the roses returned to his complexion. The moonlight caught her from behind, glowing like a halo. Whenever this feeling emerged in him, he tended to push it down far enough to forget it ever happened. There was so little time in the world to open up one’s heart, to allow himself the courtesy of real connection when he felt that his life was worth so little --

But this was a moment of true weakness, and Gods, did he want to give in. 

He stood up straight and offered his hand. “I can do that.”

She glanced down at his hand, glanced up at him briefly, eyes fluttering in confusion. Her breath began to hitch again, but she rolled her right fist for comfort. “Wh-What’s g-going on?”

“Would you like to dance?”

“I-- I can’t go back in there. My father--”

He furrowed his brows but tried to keep a calm face; he had heard the rather unsavory talk of Margrave von Edmund, and the pain he tended to inflict upon those around him - including his adoptive daughter. 

He didn’t know it all, but considered further ruining his reputation to get a good swing in at him. Because if there was anything he knew, it was being punished just for existing. (But she had done nothing wrong, and he stood by that.)

“Who said anything about going back in?” He scoffed a bit and let his smile shift to a playful smirk. “Barely anyone in that room is fun anyway. You can smell the stench of their egos from here.”

“Aren’t your friends in there?”

“Ah, they won’t miss me.”

Something stirred in her as well. She couldn’t quite place it, but she knew the quick glint of sadness in his face. 

Her hand shook as she took his, but that was the most permission she had given him before - and he refused to waste it. He quietly began to escort them outside, just by an open window into the ballroom. The brisk night air flushed both their faces. She wrapped her arms around herself, and couldn’t help but giggle ever so slightly. A thousand thoughts raced through her head; this was the last place she expected to be tonight. She caught herself somewhere in between fearing what her father was doing right about now, perhaps demanding that she be found, and almost reveling in the fact that the Officers’ Academy’s most notorious flirt helped her escape. 

Sylvain wanted to know what lived in between her words. He wanted to earn it. 

“It’s really nice out,” he commented, breaking through her thought spell, “I can’t understand why everyone would want to stay in there. But then again, what am I supposed to expect from them?”

“You… really don’t like the nobility.” Now Sylvain was _really_ caught off guard. 

“Ah, so you’ve noticed.”

“It’s hard not to.” 

They both glanced up at the full moon. “I don’t like how much people place worth on others by their crests, or status, or anything. Dare I say it, it’s fucking infuriating.”

She looked up at him in surprise, and he pursed his lips a bit apologetically. “Sorry. It tends to rile me up.”

“No, it’s fine. I… don’t think I’ve heard you be so candid before. It’s nice.”

And there it was -- the smile. She promised she would follow through someday, and he was not disappointed at all. He chose to indulge in the moment, to the point that tears pricked the corner of his eyes slightly. He blinked them away before she was able to catch it, but-- 

“... Thank you. And by the way, I knew that smile would come through. I always knew it.”

In his head he counted the stars, and wondered how many he could pull down for her. He wanted to offer them and place them on her face like freckles, to kiss the constellations-- 

And then he wondered how long he had been repressing these sorts of feelings for anyone, let alone Marianne von Edmund. 

He wanted her to want him, slowly, surely. Would she want him? (Would anyone?) His own anxiety threatened to ruin the moment for him. His eyes shut as he took deep breaths. Marianne watched him from his side and began to understand him without reserve. 

An unfamiliar tune hit its first crescendo from inside, and his eyes shot wide open. His head turned to meet hers, finding that she had not looked away from him the whole time. They both felt the fear of being known. But was it really so bad?

“I think now’s the time for that dance I promised.”

Hands met hands, eyes met eyes, and hearts matched hearts. He nodded his head in 4/4 time, waiting for the right moment. Then, they began. 

It was a simple waltz on the pavement; the click of Marianne’s heels accompanied the music and their gentle laughter. He diverted a little from the pattern and spun her, much to her surprise. She had to pause for a brief moment, and he held on to her arms firmly. 

“Are you okay?”

There it was again - his concern. “I am. That just-- caught me off guard.”

“In a bad way?”

“... No. Not in a bad way.”

He lowered his head to rest it against the top of hers; there was plenty of time to keep going, the night was young enough for them to stay young. There were no judgmental eyes to shame them, or pressure to push them past the brink. All he craved was time to simply be. 

They separated, locked eyes again, and continued to dance through the night. 

Foreseeing their separation at the end of the event didn’t matter, nor did the morning after that would leave him dizzy in thought. 

This was all he needed right now. 


End file.
